There I was.

Naked, and bare thought.

In the middle of the ocean.

I had gotten far enough to not see anyone,

Or anything,

But god and his creation.


Head and body against the waves,

I was at peace.

I was in a state of oblivion.

I rested in the water and let it take me,

As it pleased.

My ears heard nothing.

And my eyes slowly closed,

as black became a comfort.

I was where I wanted to be.

In a place where I couldn’t hear love.

I felt so at home,

That I wished for the sea to take me

Into it’s beautiful arms.


And never return me to love again.


As you’ll lie on my chest, I’ll pray that you do not hear my cries. And as you’ll feel my heartbeat I’ll hope that you do not feel my pain. I’ll hope that my past remains an unfamiliar face, a person you would never had to have known. I will not wish for you, my very own blood, the same hand that I was dealt. I can not and will not will you the same fortune as I.

Though our roots run deep, I am happy to say that they will be torched. They will be cut and broken, and destroyed. I cannot allow you, my dear, to be apart of these roots. For you, I will plant a new tree. With beautiful, healthy, everlasting roots. After me, you will water this tree. And ensure that these roots remain healthy, a thing the ones before me never did.

But me, I will never forget the roots I will destroy. They serve a purpose way too meaningful. Clarity. Though they were detrimental, they had a beautiful quality in them, a particularly sinister beauty. Because the things that are ugly to the eye still hold a type of beauty in them, that is the way of nature. The beauty is the knowing, the newfound understanding. The beauty is the calm after the storm. I am the calm after the storm. The many storms that corrupted my tree. But what is meant to happen after a storm? Rebuilding.

So, for you and yours, I will rebuild. For the beautiful sake of you, I will ensure that your new tree will be better. Your tree will have a strong foundation so that it can withstand the storms, never compromising its roots. Never a need to rebuild. And you, and your line, will be nothing of mine. You will be rebuilt, anew, and so strong. The ones strong enough to break the chain.

Think About It.

Shouldn’t you love the hand that feeds you, a little more? Love the love that is unconditionally provided to you? Love your love for the life that spewed from yours to hers? Shouldn’t you cherish something so giving? And allow yourself to bask in all its glory? Recognize something when it is given to you for what it is, pure. And take care of it. Let it want to be the gift that keeps giving. That’s what love can be when you create a good home for it. Instead you have made it homeless. There is no room for this love. You do not want it. You have swatted away the very hand that tries to feed you. You have provided this unconditional love with nothing but a love so conditional that it is unsure. Doubtful. You have forgotten about the life that was given for you, so willingly, like it never happened. The worst part is you effortlessly forget. You do not cherish this gift, a gift that not many of us get to receive. Instead you devour only what you decide you need, and fuck the rest. Take it for granted. You leave this love on call. Only to be important when you deem it. You do not bask in its glory because your attention is on your own. You are your own GOD. You worship your own soul. So you don’t appreciate love, real love. No. If you did, there wouldn’t be a cause for any of this. There wouldn’t be tears for dinner and lies for dessert. There wouldn’t be a love looking for a home, running for shelter. There would be heaven, for you. But you choose to remain in a place you don’t even realize is a hell. Because the gift that could’ve kept given is no longer in a state to provide to you. Life without true love is hell. But you will soon realize where you are and what you have lost. And the love, you so willingly let slip from your grasp, will have found a new home. A better home. A sure and unconditional home. And this love, that you lost, is such a pure one. So pure that it won’t carry hate, or vengeance. But only a hope, that you will one day open yourself up to receive the next love that comes your way.

An Elegy: Dead and Gone

I know that you are now gone,

Though I don’t want it to be true.

Because your presence I still long,

Or just one chance to hold you.

I imagine what you would’ve been,

And how our days would be.

But you are indeed gone with the wind

God needed you for his own keep.

So I sit here, with paper and pen,

Trying to keep your memory alive.

But my heart cannot and will not mend.

Oh why, why did you have to die?

But that is just the rule of life, right?

People die and loved ones move on.

So here is my heartbreaking goodbye,

Rest in Peace to my love gone.

Call me by your name

Call me by the name of your own,

Only then will I be officially yours.

No other way will make me sure, 

That I will be the queen of your throne.

Lay on my heart and call it your home.

I will promise not to make love a chore.

Our lows may hit as low as the floor

But still the sweetest you’ve ever known


Your name on your lips, sounds divine.

One plus one still equaling only one 

Because we are synched indefinitely.

What is mine is yours, and yours is mine.

I know this love will never be undone.

Just promise to love me exceptionally.

Poor Pink matter

My poor pink matter has officially dulled out 

It only hears a dramatic nothing but the same 

Thoughts as others carelessly speak about


As I walk home unattended in the rain 

The drops seem to surpass right by me

No umbrella doesn’t even cause me to strain


I look far and blankly into space defined free

I don’t know where I have recklessly gone

To or what has seemed to come over me 


Before I know it a whole fifty-seven long

Minutes have passed me effortlessly by 

And I didn’t know my direction was wrong 


My life has become this, and I can’t even cry

Because my brain won’t remember to remind me

It is dulled out I said, It can’t even try to try


Grey and Black

There has always been a grey in me,

an indecisiveness as big as the sea.

There are always decisions I cannot reach.

But this one, this one needed to be.

 Our ending, well, that is my black

My soul will never be restored

Look into my eyes, you will see that

I am someone who can’t be cured.

Your death, left a marker in my mind

It is the very same day that I too, died

So tell me my love, is there any room inside,

That box of yours, where I can just say goodbye.













The Waves

We go to the beach and stare into the ocean. We notice the waves and think of such tranquility . Why is it that we see such violence and think of it’s beauty? That’s the way I used to think of you..


Every time the waves would hit I’d close my eyes and think of you.

I’d think of your rough tide and the roar of your waters

and how still, I wanted to sit somewhere close and look into you.

I’d think of how I had jumped into you without knowing how deep and dark your ocean was

yet still, I trusted you.

How even when your biggest wave hit and you knocked me across the ocean floor,

I still stood up and went in again and again for more.

But within the strength of your high tide I found mine

and before I knew it I was able to find my own waters

and drift away from yours.